


to love something ( that death can touch )

by WitchyTwitchy



Category: Escape the Night (Web Series)
Genre: Canon Rewrite, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Complicated Relationships, Death Really Fucked Him Up, Ep7 Is The Best Ep, Give S3s Final Six A Break I Love Them So Much, He Also Loves The Other Final Six, Mat Loves Sass Squad, Mat's Beyond Emotional, Platonic Relationships, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-10
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:01:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26899363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WitchyTwitchy/pseuds/WitchyTwitchy
Summary: he didn't want to go through this again ; sitting in the familiar, slowly emptying lounge as he waits for another loss to eat at his heart. matthew patrick is so tired of losing everyone that he cares about.while he sits here waiting for bad news, he almost wishes he was still dead.[ rewrite of s3 ep7 Funhouse ; for a moment there, mat thought he lost all three ]
Relationships: The Detective | Matthew Patrick & Everyone
Comments: 10
Kudos: 34





	to love something ( that death can touch )

_How did we end up back here?_

It's the only thought that races through Mat's mind as he finally settles down onto the couch. He knows he's safe, thanks to the kind hearts of Safiya and Ro, but that doesn't seem to calm his frazzled nerves. His body is tense even as he tries to relax, his heart growing heavy in his chest at what's happening. And if his revival left him tired, then these sick games he's being put through once more is leaving him exhausted. 

He feels the bags under his watery eyes, the slump in his shoulders, and the sweat that's slowly forming on his body from stress. Mat's knee bounces as he thinks everything over, tries to see if there's a way out of this situation, but one look cast at the group makes him realize there isn't anything they could do. If there was, he knows Rosanna would be marching out there right now; her heart on her sleeve as she fights to save their people. ( _he wants to think of them as their friends, but he's scared they wouldn't agree with him_ ) 

But there's no way out of this. If there was, they would've found it by now. Hours have passed since they arrived and they haven't saved a single soul. 

The group's morale is low. Ro bites her nails, eyes glued to the door of the lounge. Joey sits curled up on the couch, his knees pressed against his chest and a shadow over his face. And Safiya? Matthew glances her way, but he can't look for long at the sight. It shakes him, to see the usually strong-willed reporter looking so haunted. Her eyes water like his does, mouth pressed into a tight line. Nothing used to shake her, and he had found himself admiring it throughout the night. 

_How would it feel,_ he used to think, _to be able to keep your heart in check?_ Mat used to think he knew what it felt like, that his heart only extended to one person, but he was wrong. 

He was doomed from the start, really, he just didn't notice it. Mat knew what he was getting into the moment he was tied to a carousel, begging for his life. Knew what he was getting into when he was told that for every artifact, someone would have to die. He thought he was so smart, truly believing his fussy, needy nature extended to his soul sister. Throughout the night, he's grown so close to the people that were still here. They've had ups and downs ( _his mind flashes to the teary-eyed face of Joey, the spiteful face of Nikita_ ) but that didn't stop him from caring. 

When he came crawling out of the ground, stumbling into the lounge while he was at his worst, he saw what remained and felt an intense ache in his heart. A need that can't be placed. 

Yes, he had favorites, everyone does and there's not a thing Mat can do about it. But that doesn't mean any of the group is replaceable. Not for him, anyway. 

This loss is going to hurt him beyond repair, the detective feels this at his core. He came back to a group of people who want him, who need him, who he needs back and he's going to lose one of them before he can try and show that he cares. 

_Manny or Nikita?_ His brain races with his heart. _Manny or Nikita?_

What was the last thing he said to them? Matthew lets out a shaky breath, gripping his hands together to try and ground himself. It hurts more than it should that he can't remember the last thing he said to the sassy but kind record producer. They hugged about fifty minutes ago, Manny held Mat in his arms and he felt safe in them, but he can't even remember his last words to the other male? 

They didn't interact in the Funhouse and Mat finds himself hating Willie even more for not giving him one last thing to solve with Manny before he might be gone for good. Maybe they talked, briefly, when they solved the puzzle in here? Perhaps he suggested something and Manny nodded? He can't remember, and he hates himself for it. 

If he could choose his last words to Manny, he likes to think he would be strong enough to clap the producer on the back and say, _'see you on the other side.'_ Or something like, _'you got this, strongman!'_ to indirectly tell Manny he will never hate him for his death. 

Maybe if he was a little braver, he could look the other man in the eye and admit he doesn't want to lose him. 

His last words to Nikita ring in his mind clearly. She was throwing her hand through the slit in the door and using her nails to try and break the lock, and in a moment of wanting to provide humor, he told her, _'don't break a nail, girl!'_ or something along those lines. Why did he say that? Mat should've offered his help, even if he knows the girl wouldn't have accepted it. Could they have found a way out together? His heart jumps to his throat and his mouth goes dry as he wonders if he could've found a way to get everyone out of there. 

It's silly, but he hopes the troublemaker can hear his thoughts somehow. That she can feel how deeply he cares about her. He doesn't say it, he knows how she is about emotions despite only knowing her for a night, but nonetheless, he hopes she knows. 

_'If I could find a way, I would.'_ he wishes he would have said that to her when it was just the two of them in the Funhouse's makeshift cage. _'I'd do anything to save you. But we both know my everything isn't enough. So can you please be careful-'_

And he pictures her cutting him off, calling his plea a 'sob story' before she continues with her escape plan that will ultimately fail. He knows those last words would've been more meaningful than what he gave her. 

The detective finally stops squeezing his hands, and wishes ( _not for the first time_ ) that he could turn back time. Even if it was only enough to go back to them all in a cage. If he knew what he knew now, Mat would grab the two and hug them with as much force as he could muster. Whispering, _'come back to me'_ s, as he's nestled between them like it's a prayer. Nikita would probably shove him away, her pretty face wrinkled up with disgust as his onslaught of affection while Manny would look at him weirdly; clever, green eyes sparkling with concern. He wouldn't care, he thinks, he wouldn't care how they reacted as long as he could have _one more moment_ with them before-

Apparently, he's falling apart on the outside as much as he is on the inside; because suddenly Ro is seated beside him, her small hand resting firmly against his arm. He startles, eyes widening and his head snapping to his left before he realizes who it is and is immediately soothed. The jet-setter smiles at him, and the strain in her once wide grin makes him wish for a miracle ( _another thing that he's wished for more than once_ )

"Are you okay?" She asks tentatively, though she notices his cross expression and ducks her head in embarrassment. "...I know you're not." 

Rosanna's voice is thick with her own hurt that she's carrying. He remembers why Manny or Nikita might be ripped away from them and his gaze softens as he looks the small girl over. Her cheeks are red, eyes swollen, and he realizes she's been crying. Something that he's missed because he's too wrapped up in his own head, his own guilt. And he feels terrible, his arm sliding out from under her grip to wrap around her, a hand touching the curve of Ro's back as he brings her into his side. She clings to him like it's instinct, burying her head into his body. 

She's so brave, bigger than life itself, and yet when she's against him, he's reminded of how small she really is. The protective instinct in his gut almost outburns the grief that's building up. Keyword being _almost_. 

As she sobs, her body wracking violently underneath his arm, he feels a hand softly touch his knee. He looks over, surprised to see that Safiya has moved to sit on the same couch as everyone else. The distant girl doesn't look at him, keeping her stony face forward, but she squeezes his knee and Mat realizes she's trying to comfort him. The small gesture is enough to make his heart swell in his hollowed-out chest, and he places his free hand on top of hers a little too fast. It's desperate, it's something that he and Saf have never done before, but she doesn't move her fingers out from under his own.

It doesn't take long for Joey to end up pressed against them, seeking comfort of his own as well. The savant scoots closer to Mat before he nestles against the detective's side. He's still curled in on himself, but he can feel the tension fade from the other's body when their sides squash together. His hands are full, literally, so he can only manage to rest his chin on top of platinum blonde hair, but Joey melts from the gesture, so he supposes it's enough. Safiya seems to follow the savant's example, finally allowing herself to lean against Ro's back to try and take comfort in the warmth the group of four now share. 

Group of _four_ , soon to be a group of _five_ , once a group of _six_. Once a group of _ten_ , if he lets himself think that far back. ( _He doesn't_ )

They're curled up in the middle of the couch, yet they still take up a good amount of space. But there's just enough space for Manny and Nikita to fit, he realizes. One of them could squeeze in next to Joey, the other next to Safiya, and together they could fill up the couch. Something about that fact causes his breathing to stop, a painful wheeze escaping his throat as he glances at Rosanna for comfort. 

The jet-setter looks up from his chest, brown eyes meeting brown, and he can't stop himself from whispering to her. 

"I'm going to miss-" He doesn't say who, because it doesn't matter which one dies. Mat's going to feel the loss and he's going to feel the pain that is _missing_ someone who can _never come back_ either way. 

Ro's doe-like eyes swim with tears again, lips trembling. "Me too."

If Joey and Safiya hear them, they don't say anything. He appreciates the intimacy they allow him to share with his soul sister even though they're not in private. Not like he wants to be alone, even with her, right now to begin with. Even if he knows it's going to wind up with his heart broken into five pieces, he can now admit that he needs the five people that remain. The admission is setting him up for failure, for pain he won't be able to fix, but he doesn't care. Manny and Nikita are out there, all by themselves, fighting for their lives and they don't know how much they mean to him. To all of the group, apparently. 

The people that remain have been here for him in his darkest hours, throughout all these moments that will scar him for life. As much as he wants to leave Everlock, there's something stubborn within him that doesn't want to think of leaving without the rest of his friends ( _because the others have to feel the same, they have to know Mat's their friend too, they have to-_ ) 

This group, when they're all together as a unit of six, feels like home for Matthew. The detective seeks comfort and companionship in them, even if it's just their mere presence that provides it. He loves them all for similar and different reasons and can he _please not lose a single one of them-_

It's a silent plea that will go unanswered, but that doesn't stop him from asking the universe for some way to make this all work out. 

Time keeps ticking by like a time bomb, and none of them have the bravery to continue looking at the door. The detective frowns, eyebrows furrowed in thought as he tries to imagine what will happen; depending on who walks through that door. 

There's the faint image of Manny walking in, cheeks red and wet from his tears, sobs still clogged in his throat from the loss of his girl. He'll be more sad than angry, more defeated than he's ever been, and Mat wonders what they could do about it. If there was any possible way he could mend that hopelessness Manny would feel if Nikita was gone. The detective would hug him, sit next to him, try and encourage him any chance he could. But it turns out the same. Without Nikita, Manny gives up. His once bold personality fades into a hollow shell until he doesn't even feel like the record producer he's come to adore anymore. Of course, he'd try to drag Manny as far as he could to the finish line, but he can't save everyone, and eventually, he would have to be pried away from his friend. 

Mat's aching heart quickly turns into butterflies in his stomach as he thinks of what will happen if Nikita lives. Her white heels would click against the floor and everyone's hearts would drop when they would see her livid eyes. She would be a hurricane, hatred fueling her every action. Matthew pictures himself standing up to throw himself in the middle to protect Ro and Saf, begging Nikita to think about what's happening; trying to tell her they're hurting with her. The troublemaker would snarl and turn her back on them, mourning alone and letting her hate fester into an infection. And no matter how hard Mat reaches out, tries to tell her he will always be in her corner even when it doesn't feel like it, she'll block him out. 

No matter what happens, Mat is slowly realizing he's going to lose both of them. One to death and one to their own grief over said death. Yet, as sick as it is, he'll take it. As long as one of them is here he'll take them broken and beyond repair. All Mat wants to do is see them again and try to show he cares before they're taken from him again. 

_As long as they both don't die, please don't take them both away in one, swift move._

At this point, he's bargaining and he knows it, but there's nothing else to do. Except wait. Sit in their only safe haven in this evil-ridden town, and wait for someone to walk through the door completely broken. 

_Manny or Nikita?_ His heart and brain ask itself. _Nikita or Manny?_

Everything in him longs for both. Though he's slowly starting to be okay with the fact he'll only get one back. His brain logics out that there's no other solution here while his heart is already used to mourning. The more he thinks about the two, the more he comes to terms with what will happen. 

It'll hurt. There will be a hole in his heart he can't ever mend. But he'll be okay and will be here for the victor of the Funhouse. And, really, that's the best he can get within the town of Everlock. 

_So he'll take it. His hands grasp at anything he can hold, and he knows that when he has to let Manny or Nikita go, they'll have claw marks on them._

* * *

_No._ No, no, no. 

Nothing that's good in this town lasts forever. Not even pure-hearted feelings like love and comfort. Everlock was trying to strip everyone of everything that they were. 

It was terrifying how well it was working on Mat. 

He would do anything to get his friends out of here. The detective would burn the town to the ground, just like the clowns threatened, because he didn't want to save these people anymore. Not at the expense of the people he cared for. Everyone in the town was evil, he felt it in his bones, there was nothing here that was worth saving. Let alone dying for. 

Any hope he had for the town vanishes in this very moment, as he scrambles up from the couch as their four-faced lieutenant walks in. Panic seizes his entire body and he's on autopilot as he runs to the corner of the room. Willie shouldn't be here. His weakened body shakes violently as he watches the man observe them, looking everyone over. The savant shouts that the monster isn't supposed to be here, but it does nothing to stop the killer from walking closer. 

In a moment of clarity, Safiya shouts out, "Where's Manny and Nikita?!" Her tone shrill as the monster seems to turn to her. And that's when the detective realizes it too. 

They aren't here. Neither of them are. His eyes are finally drawn to the fishhook that Willie plays around with in his hands, scanning desperately for any sign of blood. There's something red at the tip of it, though it's too dry and old to be theirs. That doesn't stop his mind from racing to conclusions, his hands shaking so bad he has to grab at his own coat to steady them. No, he thinks stubbornly, he can't kill them both. That's not the rules of the game! 

Though as he hears Willie's chilling laughter, he is forced to realize that there aren't any rules to this game. Just constants that they have fallen comfortable with. Of course the lieutenant to shake this up would be a madman. The blood in his veins turn to ice, eyes widening as he backs all the way into the wall. His mouth opens, completely horrified as he realizes what this means. 

"Wait- where are they? _Hey!"_ Joey's courage shines, in a rare moment of bravery, as he throws a pillow the monster's way. 

Matthew can't do this. 

Ro mirrors his expression, except thick, wet tears are streaming down her chubby cheeks. "Answer us!" She sobs, the demand sounding strange coming from her. 

He just got back, he was ready to mourn one death, not two. His chest rises and falls rapidly as he shakes his head, his mind a whirlwind of questions that he needs to be answered. Mat can't leave this town without closure on them, he refuses to. 

How did they die? Who did Willie gut first, and who had to stand by helpless and watch their best friend suffer? What were their last words? Who lost? Where are their bodies, so they can at least see them one last time? 

None of these questions manage to get strangled out of his throat; forever lodged in the back of it because he knows he won't get answers. 

And because Willie is suddenly walking Safiya's way. 

Everyone starts shouting the instant he advances towards her. It's so much that everything turns to static for the detective, even though he knows he's shouting with everyone else. What did she do? What did Willie want?

He knows the moment he sees Safiya backed into the corner, and his body rushes forward before he can think twice. 

It's too late. Always too late. He was too late to love two best friends properly and now he was too late to save a person he admired so much. 

The ground bruises his knees as he falls to them beside Safiya, immediately moving his hands to cover the gaping wound in her side. Blood, sticky, wet, and hot, coats his palm fast and he sobs out; leaning over her as her breathing seems to get rougher, and rougher. Rosanna joins him in a heartbeat because she loves Safiya probably more than he, and words start pouring from her mouth as she stays close. 

"Don't close your eyes! _Don't!"_ The jet-setter struggles to get her words out through her snot and tears. "Stay awake, please! We can- we can find something! Joey!" 

There's commotion behind him, "I'm looking! There's not a First-aid kit anywhere!" The savant squeaks out. 

He presses down harder, causing the investigative reporter to let out the saddest noise she's ever made. Safiya sounds like a wounded animal and Mat's tears start falling into her sweater from leaning over her. The blood is spreading and Ro's hands place themselves on Saf's body too. His mind races with a way to save her but he's so scared he can't even think. Everything in him is short-circuiting and he can't even breathe. 

And then he feels the rise and fall of Safiya's chest stop beneath his palms. 

When he wildly glances up at her face, her eyes are open and her irises are rolled to the back of her skull. Nothing stirs her body. 

His heart shatters into pieces and he _wails_.

Even when he was beaten to death, he didn't make such a tortured sound that completely rattles his throat. It burns from how loud he is before it's cut short because he has to suck in air to breathe. As he sits there, struggling to regain air as his hands remain coated in his friend's blood, Joey finally joins them; his expression pained and shadowed. The detective jerks his hands away like they're on fire, looking down at them with complete horror at how stained they are with her blood. 

Safiya's blood. She's dead. She's dead, Nikita's dead, and Manny's dead. _All three._

Idly, he can hear Ro whimpering. Can almost see her brushing the reporter's dark hair away from her face, the older woman cradling Saf's cheeks in her hands. Smearing the girl's skin with the little bit of blood that Rosanna collected herself when she pressed her palms against the wound too. The savant bows his head and says the death wasn't fair. 

It wasn't. Mat is sitting here, completely broken, and wishing he had stayed dead. There wasn't any preparation for this. He was only ready to lose one and now he's lost...he's lost- 

Nikita. _Brave, strong-willed, and adaptable._

Manny. _Dependable, clever, strong, and sweet._

And then a person he wasn't expecting to ever lose at all, Safiya. _Intelligent, hard-working, protective, independent, confident. There are truly no words to describe what a blessing that girl was._

His cheeks are wet from tears and red from his anger. A frown twisting into a snarl as he lets his overbearing grief turn into anger. It's easier to deal with, being so mad you could scream at the heavens. Matthew can do the anger, the once icy blood now boiling in his veins. 

He can do that but he can't do grief. Not when it's this deep. Safiya lays dead right in front of him and it's so unfair that she suffered when she did no wrong. The group needed her, Mat needed her. Apparently, his need for these people isn't enough to keep them around. ( _He's known this, but he still hoped like a fool-_ )

A body hollowed out is the perfect way to describe the detective. Whatever hope he had, the love he held for the three people he just lost in one go, has been ripped out of his chest just like Safiya's guts. A little bit of him has died with her, here on the lounge floor. 

All he can manage out is a weak, hoarse, "You deserved better. I'll miss you, always" But he's tired of settling for weak goodbyes like these, so he rests his forehead against her and whispers, "I love you." as if that's a secret nobody knows. 

( _Anyone with eyes can see how much he loved Safiya. When he thought of favorites earlier, he thought of her._ )

Sneaking a glance beside him, Mat realizes that it's almost ironic that the only people he's left with is his little jet-setter and the savant. Someone he's loved before he even stepped foot in this town, and someone he hated with a burning passion before he was brought back with a new understanding in his heart. 

All he has left is them. Group of six, now a group of three. But it doesn't matter if they're all he has left because they still have artifacts to cleanse and that means, without a doubt, he's going to lose them. Or die himself. 

The thought of going back to...to nothingness makes him curl up on the floor in fear. His knees pressed to his chest and his arms resting on top of them. 

There's nothing that could make him feel worse. The losses make him feel exhausted and almost ill, face paling and his stomach churning. He expected to cry, to react more violently, but he's in such a state of shock he can barely keep his body from falling over. Those three deserved better. And he's selfish because them 'deserving better' would mean them being here beside him. 

His eyes can't rest on Safiya's corpse any longer and he simply stares at his shoes. Trying to accept the fact that the reporter was gone for good. That he would never see her leer over a puzzle, her dark brown hair covering her face like a veil, and solve it like it was second-hand nature ever again. He wouldn't look up from his task to see Ro clinging to Saf's side, the two girls chatting and the reporter giving the jet-setter the rarest of smiles. 

Grief clouds his mind and he remembers the first time she smiled at him like that. It was such a gentle gesture, one of upmost love, that he had realized how much he favored her then. When the night first started off, he had been jealous of her. Watching the group adore her while he was green with envy; even going as far as to blame her for his loss in the partner challenge that killed the hippie. Yet, over time, she grew on him. When he came back, he could see that she had taken it upon herself to protect Rosanna, even though he never asked that of her. 

She was his friend ( _they all were, of course_ ) and he loved her dearly, still loves her, in fact. There wasn't any past tense when it came to his love for the girl. The same goes for the other two he's lost. 

In the midst of his thoughts that block out the surrounding noise, the detective never hears the sound of people entering the lounge. He's in a dark place, static surrounding him as he keeps staring downwards, remaining seated. 

The savant gets up in a hurry. While Ro gasps and shakes him softly. 

"Mat? Mat!" 

Meekly, he turns his head to look at her. She seems to rear back at how empty he looks, before she whispers, "They're back."

_What?_ His head finally clears as he sucks in a breath. He doesn't have to ask who they are. He knows. But it's not possible, there's no way-

Immediately, he whirls his head towards the entrance, heart stopping in his chest. The moment he sees them, he's on his feet in a matter of seconds. 

They're here! Happiness slams into him as he sees the two stand before them. They aren't dead? How? For a moment, he doesn't care for answers, he just lets himself take them in. His eyes roaming over what he can see of them to check for injuries because he's so worried, it hurts. 

But he doesn't see any injuries, so that means they're good right? Mat can't stop staring at them, mouth quirking into a small smile before he finally takes in their faces that he missed so much. 

His smile falls when he sees the empty expression on Nikita's face, and the stormy one on Manny's. 

It should be a miracle that they're both alive. 

_It isn't._

* * *

_Hatred spreads like a disease, as do other emotions;_ or so Mat's heard before. 

Well, he can confirm that such a fact is true, as he snarls and stalks off to the opposite side of the room. His face is bright red from his shouting, vocal cords straining against such volume, his hands curled into fists at his sides. The once relief is now a roaring fire in his chest, burning him from the inside out. All the emptiness he felt earlier is now filled to the brim with emotion and he's struggling. 

The detective hates them. ( _He knows that's a lie, but it feels good to believe at the moment_ ) He wants to shout at them some more, push his face right up into Nikita's finger and tell her off. How dare they say such things about their friend? 

Or, if they didn't care about her, how could they say such things about another human being? Mat bitterly thinks he shouldn't be surprised, they weren't remorseful about the deaths of anyone else either. Whatever their hearts are made of, he's unsure, but he knows that to hold their heart, you must be just as cold as them. And Matthew Patrick is everything but cold, even in death he was warm. Too warm, some would even say. His emotions run high and his love runs even higher. 

Sometimes, he doesn't understand other people. People that aren't like him and his soul-sister. What's the use of having a heart if you don't love others to the point they're drowning in it? Manny and Nikita only care about each other, yet Mat - selfishly - thinks that he could show them both more love than they've ever shown each other. 

Not like he would want to now, the detective scoffs to himself as he moves to sit on a couch. He tries to ignore the fact Saf's corpse is so close to him, but he almost finds comfort in the fact she's close by. It feels like she's on his side. 

Not like there should be _sides_. They should be one big group, not whatever this is. 

Mat looks up to locate where everyone is. The savant is avoiding everyone, it seems, fixated on looking at the artifacts they've collected and ignoring anyone who tries to talk to him. Joey doesn't want to get involved and made that very clear when he forced his way between Nikita and Mat, telling them both to cool down. The troublemaker had simply turned away, not another word, while she left Mat staring after her, seething. 

But Manny wasn't innocent either. The record producer stayed behind Nikita but definitely had no issue spewing nasty remarks. There was no remorse on his face at all, and the detective could barely recognize the Manny he's come to know. He definitely wanted the reporter dead, the other man's voice empty as he said she deserved it.

What makes him madder was that stupid comment Nikita thought she was so smart making. _'If that were me, would you be acting like this?'_ As if the answer wasn't obvious! 

It doesn't matter who ended up on that ground, gutted so brutally. The detective still would've turned and snarled at Safiya or Joey had they been in the others' shoes and said such vile words about their deaths. 

Why was it so hard for Nikita and Manny to comprehend that he loved them? What's so hard about him caring? They're acting like he hates them, like he would've spit at their corpses if they died! Even if he wants to scream at them right now, he couldn't ever wish death upon them. Or, if he lets himself admit it, he wouldn't wish for one of them to switch places with Saf. Though he misses the reporter with every fiber of his being, that doesn't change the fact he would miss Manny or Nikita just as much if the roles were reversed. 

Distracted by his own head, he shakes it slowly to try and focus again. Joey's still hovering near the artifacts, Ro is kneeling beside her, and he finally spots the two who caused this fight to begin with. They're huddled close at a table, he can see their mouths moving, and tries to ignore the fact they're probably trash-talking him. Or worse, Safiya. A girl who can't even defend herself from their harsh tongues that spew nothing but lies. He stares at them for a while, unable to look away nor change the expression on his face. Furrowed brows and his mouth pressed into a tight line, brown orbs full of anger and hurt. 

For a moment, Nikita looks over Manny's broad shoulder and catches his eye. Shock flickers in them before her annoyance does, eyes crinkling as she narrows them at him. He glares back shamelessly, wanting her to know he's upset with her. Silently begging her to care about it. To make a comment towards him, to look even remotely apologetic about it, to do something about this strained relationship they suddenly have and this festering hurt he feels. 

That's apparently too much to silently ask of her since she simply shakes her head at him and turns back to Manny. His hands clench at the fabric of his green, striped pants in response. Clenching his jaw so he doesn't let his tongue slip and say something. 

He keeps his eyes on them a little while longer, wanting Manny to look his way too. Some part of him wants them to care about him still. 

Something soft presses against him and the couch dips. "Mat.."

Finally, he tears his gaze away from them. Almost ashamed with how long he stared. When he looks next to him, Ro looks worse for wear. There are bags under her eyes that are swollen from tears. On instinct, his hand rises up to try and soothe the skin there, but she quickly moves away. He's almost hurt until he remembers the blood that's dried on his hands. His glassy eyes look at the red. 

"Here-" The jet-setter takes a washrag he didn't see her grab, "Let me clean you up."

Wordlessly, he lets her take his hands in her own. Letting the girl take the wet rag and clean his hands. Despite how rough the texture is of the cloth, she's nothing but gentle with him. Like she always is, he thinks with a weak smile. The drama fades from his mind as he lets himself be taken care of. When Ro treats him like this, everything bad seems to fade away. For a second he can pretend they're just hanging out, at a party together, seated far away from their friends dancing. 

The thought is nice. Beyond so. It calms his anxious mind and settles his pounding heart. 

But he's also a realist. The stench of death lingers in the air ( he's unsure if it's from him, or Saf ) and he's overcome with the urge to tell Ro he adores her. Just encase something rips him away again; because he refuses to entertain the idea of something taking her away from him. 

"I love you." His voice shakes, so he swallows and tries to say it more firmly. "I love you."

She looks up, tired eyes sparkling. "I love you back." 

He knew she did, but it makes him relax. It feels good to love and be loved in return. Cautiously, he asks for more. "I love you so much. If you weren't here, I'd fall apart."

There's a soft, aching smile that makes its way on her face. "When you weren't here, I fell apart." She admits, so strongly. "I wanted to give up-"

The thought alarms him, "No-"

"And I would've. I was so close to breaking down." Then, she laughs. It's something strained and yet it sounds like music to his ears. "But they were kind to me. All of them were."

All of them? He steals a glance at the two, pretty people still huddled together at the table. Backs turned to Mat when he's falling apart and needs them. It wasn't just one of his best friends he was aching over, it was them too. When he thought he had to lose one of them, he took it to heart. Then when he thought he lost them both, he...

A hand cups his cheek, turning him back to look into loving, brown eyes. 

"We're all still friends."

Despite her reassurance, he finds himself struggling to believe it. "I want to believe that." 

"But you don't?" 

"...No. I'm sorry." Mat's hand cups the small one on his cheek, and he leans into it, tempted to press a kiss to Ro's palm, but she pulls her hand away before he can. 

There's nothing mean on her face as she looks at him. Just a knowing, misty glint that dulls her eyes. "It's okay if you don't believe it. But _I_ know it's true." 

Defeated by her optimism, the detective drops it. Last thing he would ever want to do is wound her spirit. Rosanna hums as she finally takes the cloth away from his hands; now spotless of their mutual friend's blood. Now, what will I have to remember her by? The morbid thought crosses his mind, and that's how he knows how broken he is. How desperately his love extends to people. To the point he wants Saf's blood on his hands so he can remember her as he tries to escape the night. 

When she throws the cloth away, the jet-setter nuzzles into his side. His arm immediately wrapping around her so she can press as close as possible. This time he's able to express his affection without words, ducking his head so he can press a soft kiss to her temple. When she sighs with contentment, he lets himself get wrapped up in how strong their love is before he's taken out of the moment. Observant as always, the slightest movement catches his eye. 

It's not because he's still worried about losing the two, he tries to tell himself, but he knows that's exactly the reason. There's still anxiety within him that's sure that Willie will waltz back in, despite the odds, and take Manny and Nikita away just like Saf.

Apparently, they might fear such a thing as well. Mat watches the two with keen eyes as Nikita suddenly presses into Manny, and the record producer hugs her tight. It's warmth and safety in hugs like that. With large arms wrapped tightly around your back. He knows it well. The troublemaker leans into it, just like she had when they hugged, and Manny's hand runs through her blonde hair. 

They did just do a death challenge, and even if that doesn't excuse their behavior, it does take the edge off his anger; somewhat. There's still a tender spot in his heart as he watches the two best friends embrace, though he refuses to place the emotion. 

That's what he wanted. Their affection, their comfort, their hugs- Mat wanted it for himself when they came back to him. He wanted them to care as he did, to extend their love that seemed only reserved for each other to the detective who needed it most. Most importantly, he wanted them to apologize for making him wait and torture himself over where they were. Say they were sorry about Saf, so they could all mourn together. So Matthew could lean on them and be strong again. He hates leaning on Ro because she's supposed to rely on him and he isn't sure what he can expect from Joey. 

It's the longing from before to have them both back that's still eating away at him. They're here, safe. Yet that isn't enough for him, because they feel like they're farther away now than ever before. They're here and they're alive but he still misses them and that's not fair. 

"It's not fair." Mat thinks that statement applies to everything. But most importantly, "She didn't have a chance."

Just because he's focused on the remaining group, doesn't mean he's forgotten, nor is even close to being over, Saf's unfair death. He thought he lost three and his world became dark, and even when it was revealed he only lost one, it didn't light back up the same. The detective's angry for the woman. A spiteful taste in his mouth that almost burns. 

She wasn't who he thought he'd be mourning. But she is. Her hand rested on his just a few minutes ago. He toys with the idea of doing anything he could to have her hold his hand again. Heaven, hell, purgatory- whatever he had to go to have her back, he would go. 

Love knows no bounds. Matthew Patrick loves Safiya in death and he knows, deep down, he still loves Manny and Nikita through the strain and anger. Once again, he finds himself staring at the duo for too long, and this time he catches Manny's eye. The producer frowns and promptly looks away. 

The anger settles in him again just as easily as it did before. Though this time he knows what's really bringing it on. The fact he's worried sick and loves them so much but they don't care about his feelings, or him for that matter. 

_'If it's any consolation,'_ he longs to say to them both, _'I don't wish it was either of you over here.'_

An urge to say, _'I can't hate the two of you, I don't think I ever could. I'm glad you're both safe. I just wish she was safe too.'_

As the two best friends go back to talking to each other, his mind decides what's best and he swallows the words down. Deciding that he can't ever admit his feelings to them after what they said about Saf. He can only imagine the things they would say to him if he tried to say he cared. Tried to say how he truly felt. Maybe if there's a right opportunity for it, he'll finally say something. Let the weight fall off his shoulders. 

Memories of his revival fill his head; and the detective allows himself to bask in the way their hugs felt like coming home. How comfortable he felt being loved and missed by the two.

_What a tragedy it is that he might never feel that from them again._

**Author's Note:**

> im so so sorry for my absence ! I swear crimewave and exposed chests is in the works, but my birthday is this month and some shit has been going on behind the scenes !  
> this little rewrite came from nowhere, but I was discussing etn with some friends and it hit me! I've always liked to think that mat's blow up in ep7 came from more than just his grief over saf's death and also stimmed from his worry over sass squad ! 
> 
> but anyway ! i hope this was enjoyable ! I love rewriting canon scenes ! 
> 
> if any of y'all wanna talk, my tumblr is ; alinadash101 <3


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